


If I Loved You

by Cant_We_Just_Dance



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: A little bit not really i guess, Angst, Arranged Marriage AU, Canon Era, Cheating, Eventual Fluff, Kinda, M/M, Revolution, Soulmate AU, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-23 05:20:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11983014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cant_We_Just_Dance/pseuds/Cant_We_Just_Dance
Summary: Alexander Hamilton was no more.Alexander Washington, however, still didn't seem like a very accurate name, and yet, it was. At least it would be, if you asked the man sitting across from him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashilrak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashilrak/gifts).



So maybe this isn’t how Alexander had always imagined his wedding to be like.

In his mind, thoughts and dreams swirling around him like sticky-sweet caramel, he’d latched on to cotton-candy clouds in the atmosphere. Each strand of spun sugar melted easily against his wet lips, leaving only the subtle reminder of its existence in the back of his throat whenever he tried to imagine the taste. Bold crimson roses would line the aisle he walked down, his feet treading over the stray petals left behind by small girls that were far too young to be out in society as they were at that particular moment. 

He would be beneath a wicker-woven powder-white arch, casting patterned shadows over his tan skin and tightly tied back strands of hair. Tension would be nowhere to be found once his gaze met that of his soulmate’s. They would smile at each other, shyly at first, but the grins would quickly become wide, glimmering ones, as their lips seemed much too far apart. Golden rings would gleam as they were exchanged by the two of them, promises recited softly and a million more left unsaid, yet acknowledged all the same.

And when they kissed?

When they kissed, he knew that it would feel like no other kiss ever had before. Gentle and eager to claim somehow simultaneously, their eyes closed, masking the fiery gaze that had overtaken their visions. Strong arms would wrap around his waist gently, pulling him closer as they pulled away just the smallest bit, laughing between the tear streaming down their faces, and joined themselves in a kiss once more. At the moment his new husband would have pulled away- for real, that time-, Alexander could almost reach into his mind and paint a portrait of the somehow subtly smug smirk on his face.

Those thoughts were ones he had always expected to come true on such a day as that particularly warm spring day happened to be. Thoughts that held him close during their first dance, the string quartet perfectly on key as they took the first few steps in the race to see which of them would be first to dance the night away.

There would be no dancing that day, as Alexander was quick to learn. Of course, there were the recited words, and the walking down the aisle, and the kiss, as was to be expected of most weddings. But the words were simply muttered, not promised, and the aisle was simply one of a courthouse instead of the scarlet carpet of a cathedral, with stained glass windows shining a wide palette of pastel over his eyes. The kiss was just that- a kiss. Not a silent affirmation of his husband’s certainty in their union, not a sealing of the secret love letters they’d written in their minds, of which there was not nearly enough ink in the world to write out in physical form. It did not drag on, only breaking when they felt the burning of their lungs was more important than the one in their hearts. It was a kiss, and nothing more.

Alexander stared out the window of their carriage, the occasional rattling of their confinements shaking his view of the outside world. Grass melted into the orange-tinted speckles of paint falling from the trees that seemed to only be a glimpse of the vast blue canvas of sky above them. He idly wondered what would occur if he were foolish enough to attempt escape the elder man’s company by opening the carriage door and allowing himself to tumble out the side. Dust would be kicked up and flood the air- as well as his lungs- due to his rather sudden collision with the dirt road below him. It would take only a few seconds for him to gather his bearings and run off into the forest, and only a handful more seconds for the carriage to cease in its travel and have someone run after him. In such a suit as Alexander found himself in at the moment, running would be difficult, the starched cloth moving stiffly around his body as he searched for cover beneath the trees where he would not be found. But even if he were to successfully escape, what would become of him? Or, for a greater concern, his family?

No, he decided, the words firmly setting beneath his eyelids as he allowed his eyes to close for just a moment, to find solace in the empty temporary darkness. Escape would be a fool’s errand, in this particular situation. It was quite simply not worth the trouble. People were depending upon him, upon this union in which he found himself at this very moment. His dearest sister Eliza, sweet innocent Eliza, whose debutante ball had been the most elite event of the season- her very life depended on the kindness of the man that Alexander would have to know as his husband for the rest of their respective lives.

“Of course,” Washington drawled, his southern accent thicker than the tension they felt between themselves as his words drew Alexander out of his thoughts. “Jefferson does not seem the kind of man to agree with others, especially those with upbringings such as yours.”

“Upbringings such as mine?” Alexander questioned, visibly shocking Washington, due to those few words being the first ones he had uttered since the ceremony. “I do hope that you mean no ill will when you say such a thing, Mr.Washington. One may do such a thing as interpret it the wrong way, and we wouldn’t have that, now would we?”

“You forget,” Washington began, easily pushing aside the shock that had clouded his eyes like thickly woven lace. “I am no longer the only ‘Mr.Washington’. As of today, you hold such a title as well, Alexander. In private, you are to call me by my given name- I do hope that will not be an issue. I would hate for our first few moments of civil conversation to be filled with poorly disguised spite.”

“I am to refer to you as… George? That is quite the odd requirement,” Alexander noted, finally turning his gaze to be focused on the man sitting across from him. His husband’s eyes were cold and dark, like a winter sky without a hint of the softness of freshly fallen snow. “Such… intimate ways of addressing each other may cause people to gossip things. Things such as rumors of us being soulmates, or something as ridiculous as that.”

“I can assure you, even in my past marriage, referring to my spouse by their first name is no more than what is expected. You forget, Alexander- you are no longer a citizen of New York. You should have expected a Virginian life to be somewhat different than what you are accustomed to,” Washington pointed out, the beginning of a smirk forming in the corners of his lips. “Have no concerns about adjusting, though. There is not much to learn that you do not already know from your life back home. I expect that you should be well suited to life in Virginia in only a matter of time.”

“I believe it to be much the other way around, sir,” Alexander muttered, maintaining a look of indifference on his face despite Washington’s newly found amusement in their conversation. “Life in Virginia shall find itself accustomed to me in no time at all.”

The smirk on Washington’s face had fully formed over the course of Alexander’s past words, and the man placed his hand on his knee, bending down slightly to narrow his eyes in interest at his husband. “What a strange statement- should I expect myself to become accustomed to such words as well?”

“Very much so,” Alexander replied, making no more effort to continue their interactions more than the necessary nod or hum in agreement at the other man’s words. 

When the carriage came to a halt, and the door opened, flooding in a warm beam of sunlight, Washington, gazed expectantly at Alexander, making room for the smaller man to exit before he did such a thing himself. Nodding in acknowledgement, Alexander stood and stepped out, squinting in the sudden burst of bright sunlight and casting his gaze downwards to avoid any more of the stinging sensation in his eyes.

A firm hand on his upper back- Washington’s, no doubt- urged him forwards, leading him into the massive, overly ornate doors. Hardwood floor creaked beneath his shoes with each step, and Alexander lifted his gaze, eyes widening at the building that was to be his home from this point forward. Large arches towered over him, casting softly lined shadows as they walked through the rooms, until they reached a room with a piano that seemed far too ancient to still be in use.

“I’ll meet you in the dining room at six o’clock,” Washington spoke suddenly, his voice echoing ever so slightly through the high ceilings and walls that seemed to fold in on themselves forever, although they most certainly did not. “Feel free to explore in the time before, though. I’ll be in my study if you need me, and simply ask the nearest servant for directions to the dining room when you need to be there. I trust that you’ll find yourself something to occupy your time while I finish up my work for the day?”

“I suppose such a thing would not be difficult,” Alexander responded, and in only a matter of seconds, Washington left for his study, leaving Alexander alone in the drawing room.

Over the course of a few more hours, Alexander acquainted himself with the house that would have to become his new home. The drawing room’s piano had an A flat where there should not have been an A flat key, and the staircase creaked at the third to last step on his way up, in search of his spouse. He still had not a clue which room was their bedroom- or if they were even going to share a bedroom, or sleep apart as he knew some couples to do. 

Alexander walked down the hall, biting his lower lip in confusion as he attempted to figure out which room was Washington’s study. Each door looked far too alike for his taste, and the floral carpet that lined the hall was to be considered tacky, at best. A small hum of a deep voice sounded from a door that was slightly ajar, candlelight inching through to the hall from the room. Taking in a breath, Alexander quickly realized that the hum must have been one of concentration from his husband, and without further thought, pushed open the door and stepped in.

“George, I was- oh!” Alexander exclaimed, upon setting his eyes upon the sight before him. Washington had his arms wrapped firmly around another man’s waist, their lips connected in what had evidently been a rather passionate kiss. Turning his head, Washington’s eyes widened, and he pulled away from the embrace quickly, urging the other man out the other door to the room while Alexander stood in place, shocked still.

“I had not expected you in my study at this moment,” Washington explained hurriedly, stepping toward Alexander with worry in his eyes and his brow furrowed. “I swear, I did not intend for you to see such a thing, my Alexander.”

“I am not your Alexander, and it is quite evident that you do not wish such a thing to become true,” Alexander stated, narrowing his eyes and feeling the deep sting of shame in the back of his eyes, due to his previous ideas that perhaps such a life with Washington would not be a horrid one. “Tell me, am I your mistress, or is he? Did you only marry me so that you would not be forced to supply an explanation as to why you did not find a suitable husband?”

“Might I remind you that I was not the one of us who decided that our union would come to be,” Washington countered, avoiding the question entirely. “You accepted the offer, entirely knowing that I could have a lover that is not yourself. I… I did not want to tell you of such a thing in this way, Alexander. I know that you may never love me, and I do not expect you to. I wish for us both to find happiness, and even if we are married, it does not have to be in much more than name. You are free to find your own happiness, as I have attempted to do the same. If you meet your soulmate, I would not take any actions to keep them and yourself apart.”

“I have taken every action I could toward finding my soulmate, and this marriage was simply another mistake I have made in such a search,” Alexander spat, his words visibly striking confusion into Washington’s eyes. “I agreed to your proposal because I was desperate, and because the name on my left wrist very clearly says ‘George’. Evidently, your wrist does not have ‘Alexander’ scrawled anywhere on it.”

And with a pivot of his feet and a slam of the door, Alexander left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

George sat at his desk, head in his hands. If he were able to draw any emotions up from his empty husk of a soul, he had the strangest feeling that he would be crying, tears spilling out over the brim of his mind like a sinking ship. The events of the day had been, for a lack of better phrasing, eventful. After all, it is not everyday that one meets their fiancee, marries them, and has their affair discovered by said fiancee. And yet, such a day had been the one George found himself in.

That much had been enough to sink his soul into a mood far too foul for any reasonable man. But of course, to top it all off, Alexander had informed him that he’d thought their arrangement would be one of love- one of soulmates, even. Pulling down the cuff of his shirt, George grimaced at the name written in steady- albeit messy- cursive, with dark ink that was not quite the typical pitch black used for writing. He quickly righted his shirt cuff, fastening the cufflink- it would do no good to focus on a life that would certainly never be his own, now would it?

He decided to instead focus on the papers set down in front of him, each one obviously written in a hurried manner, as if the information held within each and every letter was the single most important thing in the world. And in some ways, to some men, he supposed it was. Each letter said roughly the same thing, although from different perspectives and highlighting slightly differing perspectives on the matter of certain events.

The colonies were under attack of the British- whom they were not considered a part of, anymore, evidently. Intolerable acts and tea splashed overboard in Boston- a constitutional congress, a war, even. More than a war. A revolution.

Of course, when one is to have a revolution, it is typically a requirement to have a man to lead, someone who has experience in battle, someone who can command a group of men, a battalion, a camp, a fort, an army- a newly formed country. Apparently, George had been the very man in mind for their attempt at freedom. He did not particularly disagree with their decisions to break free of Great Britain that no citizens of the colonies considered to be all that Great indeed. However, their choice of commander?

Well, George could almost laugh at such an idea, if he was not so aware of the weight of the situation they found themselves in. He was entirely too aware for his taste. Carefully, and with great caution, he took a few moments to gather his thoughts and attempt to come to a final decision. If he were to decline the position, they would respect his decisions, although he was sure that if he chose such a course of action, he must do so with a certain degree of elegance and refinement.

But were he to accept the position he was offered?

Glory and bloodshed flashed through his mind like fireworks and gunshots shooting through his chest, leaving him out to die on the battlefield, an unceremonious death- but most certainly not a shameful one. If he said yes, yes I shall be your commander in chief and lead you to what I hope will be victory, then his decision would be final, lest he make a fool of himself in the history books. If, or more likely, when he was defeated, he was well aware that a quick, painless death would not be his fate. He would be shipped off to Britain, sent to a prison cell awaiting trial, where he would most certainly be found guilty of treason and hanged. At the very thought, George rested his hand on the back of his neck, feeling the smooth skin that would likely be cut to have his head placed on a stake in front of the palace.

And what of Alexander?

Dear, sweet Alexander, who had been given so much false hope that has been shattered far too early into their marriage. His relationship with the younger man had certainly been dumb luck on his part- a carelessly sent proposal, and a puzzlingly quick response. He had wondered why Alexander had been so hasty to respond, but decided to count his blessings that he had found someone to be with after the death of his wife only a decade ago. Now, the situation was all too clear.

Idly, George supposed that come the news of his death, Alexander would be overjoyed, if not at the very least relieved. It had been made very clear by the other man that he had been seeking a true connection, instead of the merely political one that most found themselves coerced into. But that wasn’t very likely to occur, now was it? Certainly not. Only a fool would think such an absurd thought.

Before he could dip his quill in ink to write out a response to the so-called ‘founders’ of the revolution, there was a rather loud creaking open of the door to his study. Too loud to be one of the servants, as most knew that the door was noisy, so it must have been someone new to the house- Alexander. 

“Washington?” Alexander asked quietly, and yet his voice did not carry a meek tone, as was typical of spoken words at such a volume. The younger man opened the door fully, walking through the doorway with an unreadable expression on his face. “Might I ask what you’re working on at such an hour as this?”

“I must remind you that when in private, you are to refer to me by my given name?” Washington questioned, sighing softly and setting aside his papers, standing from his seat and walking over to Alexander with light footsteps as not to frighten him. “And my work is of no concern to you, there is much to do in my home, and I do hope you find better things to do than sit around waiting for me to find time for you, which you have proven yourself not to desire.”

“I have no desire for time with a husband that thinks of me as nothing more than a figure in place of society,” Alexander retorted, crossing his arms and staring up at the taller man with narrowed eyes in expectation of a reply.

“And I find myself in a similar position to yourself in that regard, Alexander. However, I do hope that you realize that I do not view your place in my life as merely a useless one,” Washington spoke, doing his best to keep his tone steady and warm as well as welcoming. “I am well aware that such a change in your life, and so suddenly, is not an easy thing. But I do believe that if you so wish for a thing such as affection between us-”

“I wish for nothing of the sort,” Alexander interrupted, cutting him off with words sharper than the newly finished blade of a bayonet. “And you would do well to remember such a thing. Carve it into the wood of your desk if you refuse to cement it in your memory, but do not falter in your actions toward me to such a degree that you believe us to be emotionally close. I may share your bed, but I will not share your heart, as my own is plenty enough for me.”

George frowned at Alexander’s words, his shoulder sinking forward just the slightest but as he took a small step away from his husband. “Very well,” He answered, tone unfaltering and entirely unwelcoming, a stark contrast to his words but a few stray moments ago. “I will not press the issue. As you recall, I do not intend to pressure you into something as incredulous as love, and you are free to pursue your own happiness as I have attempted to do, myself. What are you feeling inclined to do?”

“I-I must have misheard you, Washi- George. I must have misheard you, George. What in the world do you mean by asking what my current inclination is toward?” Alexander inquired, furrowing his brow and uncrossing his arms to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

“I mean,” George continued, his words not softening, but his tone becoming the slightest bit more warm, the icy cold chill having been lost in Alexander’s small yet ever so present movements. “Do you wish for me to show you to my library? I have heard of your fondness toward books, and have taken the liberty of purchasing a few volumes that I believe will pique your interest. Or perhaps I could find a few unmarked journals, and you could begin to chronicle your life or the thoughts that are most certainly racing through your mind at this very moment? Maybe you wish to play the piano? There is one in the sitting room that you are free to use whenever you desire. This is my home, yes, but you are my husband, now, and as so, you are entitled to explore any part of the estate you wish.”

Alexander’s eyes widened as he processed George’s words and after a moment, he stepped away from the other man and walked over to the desk, picking up one of the multitude of documents. 

“Constitutional congress? A revolution? You? As commander?” He mused aloud as he read, George quickly walking over and attempting to take the parchment from Alexander’s hands and failing as the shorter man held it out of reach. “What’s all this about?”

“A well-educated man such as yourself should know just as well as any what these letters mean,” George countered, ceasing in his efforts to take the paper from Alexander, despite a small part of his mind screaming at him that he’d just met this man and was already allowing him to look through his private letters. These were more than simply private letters, though. If such letters as there were placed into the wrong hands, the deaths of many men were almost guaranteed, rotting in the London gutters, a death for men who committed such heinous acts as treason. However, that was likely why the word ‘treason’ was not to be found in any of the documents sent to Washington. Most held words in its place such as ‘equality’, ‘freedom’, ‘revolution’, but all who set their gaze upon those sentences would easily be able to tell what they were truly standing in the place of.

“So you’re the one they’ve chosen?” Alexander asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement as he shifted his gaze toward the other man and set down the parchment in his hands. “Such a thing is… interesting, to say the least.”

“To say the least?” Washington pressed, unsure of exactly what Alexander had meant by his words and entirely willing to find out what had been intended. “From what I’ve heard of Alexander Hamilton, now Alexander Washington, he is not a man of few words. To say the least of something would be rather out of character for you, now wouldn’t it? Why don’t you say the most of this situation, instead of the least? You are, after all, my spouse. I should like to know what my husband’s full opinion is of this matter.”

Turning around fully, Alexander propped himself up against the heavy wooden desk behind him and gave his husband what could only be described as the hint of a smirk, not quite fully formed, like a half-snowflake that had yet to fall from the heavens. 

“My opinion,” Alexander began, his voice taking on a certain tone with quite edge that could only be detected if one were to take in his full facial expression. “Is that you are a right fool. Being approached with such a position as this and not coming to a decision after a matter of weeks? Some of these letters were sent a fortnight past, and you clearly have yet to draft a response to any of them! You clearly hold most these men in high regard, and they do the same for you- so why have you not come to a decision? Don’t bother answering, that question was rhetorical.

You have not come to your conclusion as of yet because, to be brash, you simply do not believe yourself capable of such a position. Look, even now, your shoulders are slumped with the heavy weight of truth in your mind that you have been pushing back for so very long! However… In the days I have known you, which is in all honesty a single day, I feel as though you should take the position.”

“And, pray tell, why should I do that?” Washington inquired, taken slightly aback by the other man’s plethora of opinions and clear ability to take control of a conversation after only a mere few well-spoken sentences. “If I am as hesitant to accept as you believe me to be, why in the world would the correct path of action be to accept?”

“Because this war is inevitable, whether you or I like it or not,” Alexander answered quickly, as if he had already known what George was going to ask before the words had been uttered. “And I am of the belief that neither of us should be the sort of man that lives his life with so little excitement as we are destined for.”

“Us?” Washington pressed, emphasis heavy on the singular word. “So this isn’t for only myself, now is it? You wish to be in battle, and that is why you are pushing toward the possibility of a proper revolution, with me as commander?”

Alexander’s cheeks flushed scarlet with blood rising to them, and he averted his eyes for only a split second before meeting George’s gaze with a fiery passion that matched the ones of a crazed man whose words somehow made all too much sense. “I believe that is what I am suggesting. You are not very skilled with parchment and quill, at least not to the extent as I am. So, I propose that we work together toward the goal of winning our freedom from Britain. What do you say to that… George?”

Washington’s eyes narrowed for a moment, and a devilish grin formed on his face as he took Alexander by the arm and showed him the quills, ink, and blank parchment ,placing them onto the desk.

“I say,” Washington began, his grin not faltering for a second as he gazed at Alexander in the flickering glow of late night candlelight. “That we have a war to win.”

That night, neither man slept, instead busy scrawling carefully chosen words onto parchment and readying them to be sent to those who had requested his aide. After all, revolution was a flame that could not be put out once the first few sparks had been lit. And in Washington’s office that night? It was already a blazing inferno.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you there, with that fabulous smile of yours! Did you enjoy reading this fic? If so, then please tell me! If not, then please tell me why! Constructive criticism is always welcome, and I hope you appreciated this chapter!


End file.
